will you ?
by orange crush
Summary: season 6- Buffy's back, but not everyone wants to send her cards and flowers. It isn't easy being 20 and alive again. She finds help in unlikely places, but can she come to terms with it all in time to stop the spread of a new evil ?
1. Return Policy

He hit the ground and rolled, allowing his shoulder to take most of the blow from the pavement. His jaw tightened in pain. Not the best idea, he realized, considering I got stabbed there two days ago. Spike leapt to his feet but stayed low, fists tight, circling the K'bbeth creature he'd followed into the alley. 

"Not as easy to kill as those co-eds, eh ?" he growled, but the demon seemed uninterested in conversation and merely swung his axe in the direction of Spike's forehead. The vampire swore and ducked, and swiped his right leg under the slimy thing's ankles. His opponent was huge and hulking, and therefore particularly suited for falling heavily and not getting up right away. Spike pulled the dagger free from his belt loop and drove it home. There was a brief shudder, and orange bile flowed up like a lame geyser from the wound. Spike fought the urge to throw up. Gross. 

There was something like a tentacle attached to his duster sleeve, and he peeled it away with the expression of a man forced to touch sanitary pads. Lucky thing there's running water where I'm headed. He made a face and prodded the stained leather with tender fingers. I can't afford any more wear and tear on the old dear than is absolutely bleedin' necessary. 

"Spare some Mardi Gras, pet ?" he asked cheerfully, and Buffy let out something like a squeak. He indicated the paper towels with his thumb. "Coat's a touch soggy. Those K'bbeth don't play nice. And they spit like Mt. St. Helen's when you stick 'em."

"You're breaking my heart. Here." She watched him soak up the mess from his sleeves with an almost loving touch. The coat-affection seemed a bit out of place, but she ignored it, choosing instead to fold her arms across her chest like an imperial guard. "You use a door this time, I hope ?"

"The only civilized thing to do." He replied, raising an eyebrow that dared her to challenge him. The slayer in her was not impressed.

"Huh." She snorted. "You and 'civilized' ever get in the same room, one of you would kill the other." He cracked a grin.

"That was really excellent, you know. Retorts are 100% better. Been practicing long ? 'Cause you know," he slid close to her, risking a staking, he knew, but willing to die for the scent flooding his nostrils, "I was particularly impressed." Her brows arched in a similar challenge.

"You looking to get staked ?"

"Not in the mood." He purred.

"Then get your hand away from where it's hovering, over my ass."

"Right." He itched at his neck, embarrassed, and slung his hips over the kitchen counter. Spike let his heels knock on the cupboard doors, watching her arrange Heaven-knows-what on creamy pale shelving. "Spring cleaning ?" She opened her mouth, and shut it again, and made a small weary gesture with her left hand that was decidedly un-slayer-like.

"Social Services. They're checking up on us on Tuesday. It's-" her hands became fist, instinctively. "It's some kind of stupid test. Like I'm not good enough to protect her !" she yelled, to no one in particular. "Like I need to be 'observed' by a bunch of…"

"Snooping wankers ?"

"Exactly." I came back from the dead for her, she wanted to say, but stifled the thought. Spike knew the story. In fact, he'd been the one to find her, shivering and incoherent, in the middle of an unused stretch of freeway. Something to do with it not being her time. Whatever that meant. All it meant right now was paperwork and housecalls and an ache just to the right and south of a shoulder blade. Her face must have shown something of all that, because Spike eased off the counter and padded silently over to her side. His hands found the spot without asking, and began to rub counterclockwise, with just the right pressure.

"Better ?" he asked, in a neutral sort of voice, when a few minutes had passed. 

"Better."


	2. Night Shift

"Evil Dead, you're looking mean and twice as ready… as anybody else here for about five cups of coffee." Xander paused halfway through his sentence to yawn, and Spike smirked.

"How about you just drink some, and I'll-" a glare from Buffy interrupted him. "-watch." He finished, and sank into an armchair, still grinning. Giles did his usual cleaning of the spectacles, and faced the assembled group. 

"I've brought you all here, because…"

"You're one of those early-to-rise jokers…" murmured Buffy amiably, under her breath.

"… there's a problem arising, one that I'd hoped had been prevented, but it seems to be, pardon the cliché, rasing its ugly and equally unwanted head here in Sunnydale."

"And this merits losing five hours of beauty sleep because ?…" the slayer let the sentence hang, and Giles frowned, but not at her.

"Because apparently the K'bbeth creature dispatched by Spike last night was not a lone traveler, as I'd hoped, but was a member-"

"Card-carrying." Spike remarked, flashing a small square of laminated paper.

"-of a certain secret society dedicated to…" he paused, and wiped his spectacles again. "Something terribly unpleasant, I feel sure." He finished lamely. Buffy waited a few beats until she was certain Giles had nothing left to say, and let out a noise of unparalled disgust.

"Are you okay ?"Willow said, glancing over at her face, but Buffy ignored that.

"So... you're not sure, but just maybe some kind of demon is up to something nasty ?"she said calmly, internally tensing to spring. Giles nodded, not yet seeing the wave of sarcasm that was about to blindside him. Spike saw the storm coming, and raised what umbrella he could.

"Uh, Buffy." he interjected, raising a hand. "The card. It's got, uh, this symbol on it, same thing as the covers of the books Giles _doesn't_ let Anya sell to anyone. Get it ?" This statement semed to register deep within Buffy-logic, and she gave Giles her best 'ready for an explanation' face. He sighed again, in a patently British manner. 

"I'm afraid I have nothing to tell you right now. Except that from now on, we should be exercising particular caution."

"As opposed to our usual manner of patrolling blindfolded." Xander grinned weakly. Spike rolled his eyes, but refrained from ripping into his usual stream of derogatory remarks. Give the kid a night off. I'm not on my game anyhow, he thought, watching clouds cross Buffy's pretty face. "Hey, if we're all done here, An and I can take a sweep of the graveyard before we head in-" and a pointed stare from Buffy stopped him in his tracks. There was an uncomfortable silence, and Xander looked at the floor.

"I can do it." Buffy said quietly. "It's my job."

"We just thought you might want to-" Anya began cheerily, but Xander touched her arm with three fingers.

"She's got it." he said. 

"I've got it." Buffy echoed. "And I'm tired of this."

"Tired... ?"

"Of being treated like I'm made of glass. Being treated like I just came back from the dead. I mean, I did, but- sometimes I'd like to forget that, okay ? And I know," she looked ashamed for a moment, "I know you're only doing it because you care. But it's like people still trying to give you your meals in bed after you get well, you know ?" Willow smiled at her. 

"Hey. A big 'get your own dinner' from us." the blonde grinned back at her.

"Something like that. I'm gonna swing by on my way home anyway. Everything's locked up, Dawn'll be fine... so I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Same time, same channel." Xander quipped.

"Same time, and I'll find a new favorite show." she shot back, laughing. She shut the door behind her, hair swinging in a slight breeze. Giles stood by the window, watching her cross the streets with more energy than she'd shown in days. Glad she finally got that off her chest. I've been watching her take those kinds of suggestions for weeks, letting them roll off. It's better if she just gets back out there and does what she has to do. Something smooth and black rustled in the doorway. Spike looked at the fatherly man, and back out the window at Buffy. 

The four joking twenty-somethings back in the shop didn't see the glance that passed between the two men, but they wouldn't have understood anyhow. Spike nodded, and twisted the doorknob before Giles could even get out the next sentence. The same sentence he'd repeated to him every night since Buffy had been strong enough to patrol again.

"Protect her." Giles said, and it wasn't a question.


	3. Feel Like This

"It never fails." she feinted left and smashed the vampire just under the bridge of his nose. He clapped his hands over the broken point and staggered backwards. "New clothes, and you guys show up." Buffy continued, sweeping the legs out from underneath the tottering bloodsucker. "I mean," she flipped a stake out from her waistband, "where _are _you on sweatpants day ?" No response, except for a slightly choked growl. She shrugged. A vampire-shaped dust cloud floated up into the air, and was carried away. No sense of humor, that's their problem, she found herself thinking. Aside from, you know, the whole dead thing. 

She paused, and extended her senses for an instant, on impulse. There was an oddly familiar rustle from the bushes. Speaking of dead... Buffy reached an hand into the underbrush, clamped down on something leather, and hauled away. Spike found himself doing an involuntary backflip into the open. 

"Bloody hell, slayer, give a bloke a little warning !" he yelped through a mouthful of turf. "What if it hadn't been me ?" he added. Her eyes flashed green.

"Give it up, Spike." she said softly. "It was you. It's been you every night since... since. What is this ?"

"I'm just watching your back. That's all."

"Not true." she folded her arms across her chest. "You don't trust me."

"I- eh ?"

"You heard me. You don't trust me. You think I'm not... up to par, or whatever. That having been dead's messed up my slaying. When will you all understand that I'm fine ?!" the last sentence was shouted at the sky. She looked back at him. "I'm fine." she repeated. "I just... want to be left alone right now. Okay ? It's the chosen _one_, not the chosen one and... others. Company. People. Oh, shit." she slumped onto a tombstone. "I just... never wanted to feel like this."

"Like what, pet ?" he ventured.

"Like... everyone thinks I'm... weak." She expected to let that last word hang in the air for a while, to impress Spike with the magnitude of what's she'd let spill out. He laughed, and she shot him a murderous glare. "What's so funny ?" she hissed.

"Not you, slayer." he smiled honestly at her. "We don't think you're weak." Did I just say we ? his brain remarked, but he continued on. "Lots of things we think about you, but none of 'em's 'weak'. It's us, not you."

"Us how ?"

"We're afraid." he said cautiously. No use in holding back, I suppose. "I'm afraid." 

"Choice words, Big Bad." she snapped, and winced as she watched hurt flash across his pale face.

"You want to hear what I have to say or not ?" he asked through tight lips. She nodded. "I failed you." he said quietly. "Failed miserably." Buffy realized she was holding her breath. "Let you die. And it's not gonna happen, not ever again. You can hate me for it all you want, but I'm gonna be here, day in, day out, for as long as I have to be." He put his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to mock him. Buffy's jaw hung slack. 

"Spike..." she breathed, "Spike... nobody failed me. Not you. You did everything you could... so much more than I ever thought... you didn't fail me. Is that what you think ?" His eyes refused to meet hers. "Oh my God, is that what you all really think ? That I died... because of you ?" She grabbed his chin, and the action startled him into meeting her stare. "You. Didn't. Fail. Me. I made a choice. To protect Dawnie. To protect the world. It wasn't anybody's fault."

"I know." he said thickly. "I know. Doesn't make it... go away, though."

"Oh, don't..." she murmured, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was too surprised to say anything else. They stood like that for a moment, and he slowly wrapped his arms around her, letting her warmth sink into him. It was nothing like he'd imagined, or rather fantasized. There were no hungry pawings, no sweat, no 'I want you-s' from either side. It was enough. It was more than enough. It was approaching 'wildest dreams' territory. She held her friends like this, when they sorrowed, she held her sister this way to reassure her of the blood that flowed between them. In a moment, she'd release him, and they'd both turn away to hide the moisture coming to their eyes. They'd been enemies once, and old habits die hard. But for now there was nothing for either one of them but each other. 

They just stood with their arms around each other, letting each other know, in the oldest way, that there was another being on this earth who cared.

"That's disgusting." the thing muttered, out of one corner of his... Eric just kind of assumed it was a mouth. "Look at them. They don't even have the decency to pretend it's lust."

"Yeah. Gross." Eric shoved his hands in his pockets. He was hungry, and right now he didn't really care what the slayer did with any vampire, as long as it wasn't him. Being this close to her made him nervous, anyhow. He was small, and redheaded, and had been in Buffy's biology class a few years back. Then, she'd made him a little nervous because of the short skirts. This wasn't quite the same. The thing beside him shifted, and a thin trickle of drool escaped the corner of its mouth. Eric fought the urge to heave. This kebby, or kebbut, or however you pronounced it... thing... was probably the worst partner he'd ever had to go on duty with. "Are we almost done ?" The thing smiled slowly at him.

"Not quite. You see ?" he indicated the graveyard, where the slayer and vampire had parted, and were now awkwardly glancing at the ground. The redhead rolled his yellow eyes.

"Yeah, I see, and I don't know what it has to do with-" he found himself lifted off the ground by a tentacle the consistency of elderly Jell-O. 

"Lumhe has sent us for the slayer. And we will return, _with_ the slayer." the thing gave him a sickly smile, and Eric remembered what he'd heard about these kebby-things. They weren't choosy with meals. 

"Right." he nodded. "Right, right, right."


	4. Raisinets From Heck

"They're trans_what _?"

"Translucent. They let light pass through them. An unusual skin condition, or something of that nature."

"So they're, like, the Johnny Winter of demons ? Without the guitar ?" Giles rolled his eyes at the young man. Xander, your analogies, as ever, confound logic. 

"They're not albinos." he clarified. "The K'bbeth simply are clear, or cloudy, skinned. This means their juices are exposed to the sun in a rather direct way. It, er... causes the fluids to evaporate."

There was a chorus of 'ewws' from around the tabel. Buffy made a face. 

"So they go from water balloons, to, like, raisinets ?" she grimaced. Tara and Willow shot each other a look, and giggled. Giles looked as if he was about to say something, but just grinned.

"Something like that."

"Add one more to the list of 'demons who hate the sun'. Big surprise there." Willow sighed, floating a pencil idly. She allowed it to waft near Tara, and tapped the eraser lightly on the tip of her nose. The blonde smiled back at her, shyly. "So, any ideas yet on what a bunch of them could be doing in town ?"

"Beyond the usual take the fight to the hellmouth ? Nada." Xander shrugged. "Hey, An ?" he called. "You want any help back there ?" The ever-cheerful shopmistress appeared from the stockroom, carrying a fat stack of grungy books. 

"Got it." she said firmly. "If we're going to be married, I'm not going to allow us to fall to easily into stereotyped gender roles." There was a brief silence. "Except, for, you know, sex." she added. Xander grinned widely at her, but had the grace to look sheepish when he turned back to the group.

"I, uh... we, uh... yeah. Read some books. About weddings. Lots of stuff I never thought was involved in a wedding... well, it's involved in a wedding." Willow mouthed 'gender roles ?' at him, and he sighed. Anya set the books down in front of them. 

"These are all the books Giles doesn't let me sell." she announced. "Not like anyone even knows where to get viclarian newt fingers anymore, but..." she threw up her hands, "...better safe than sorry." 

"Giles- you think, whatever they're up to, it's in one of these ?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"It's all I've come up with, I'm afraid. This one in particular," he hefted one from the pile, "has a calendar of K'bbeth holidays and rituals. All the days of the year are covered." Tara looked up at him, in obvious research-mode. He handed it to the blonde, who cracked open a wrinkled page, flipped for a while, and glanced up at the others with a silly grin.

"H-hey." she said, showing the picture. "Everyone wanna find their birthdays ?"

Giles sat with his coffee, allowing himself at last the luxury of relaxing. He watched the five friends flip through books, cracking jokes, simply hanging around with each other. Mostly he watched Buffy, watched her hands tuck stray hairs behind her ears, watched her smile knowingly at Willow's whispered comments, watched her laugh, blink, _be_. If they didn't find an answer to this problem tonight, it was alright. There was tomorrow, and the next day, and God willing, the next after that. In the back of his mind he knew there'd be a day. A day when goodbyes were final. No second, or in her case, third chances. 

But tonight she was here, and she was breathing, and it was enough. It was hard for him to worry about the future, when such a large part of him was still dancing over the fact that she was walking around in the sunshine again. He'd never had children. Probably never would. He only had her. They'd tied all those tricky father-daughter knots, rebellion and anger and discipline and at last, acceptance. That she was her own person, and as much as he'd like it, he couldn't protect her, or hold her back from the world, any longer. She was the slayer, after all. A primal force. But she was his daughter, too, little more than a child. She was here with him now, and it would have to be enough. 

And, a quiet voice in the back of his skull added, if it takes sending a vampire around after her to keep it that way... so be it. The bells on the shop door jingled cheerfully.

"Speak of the devil.." he murmured to himself. Spike threw the blanket on the floor, smothering a few stray tendrils of fire in the motion. 

"Afternoon, all." he smirked. 

"Join the party, smoky." Xander looked up from his books. "We're researching the K'bbeth."

"What, the walkin' booger things ?"

"Great visual..." Buffy groaned.

"The very same." Xander asserted. Spike gave a small snort of disgust, but helped himself to an oversized tome. A cloud of dust flew up as he did so, and he stifled a sneeze. Buffy couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of unreality. Spike is sitting around a table with my friends, sneezing. A table that Xander invited him to, no less. Someday, I'm gonna ask what happened while I was... gone, she decided. Someday, when the idea doesn't scare me quite so much. 

"Here's something." Willow piped up. "We know they hate the sun, right ? So it says here, there's a certain day when they can perform a ritual to make, uh, cloud cover. Like, cover up the sun for a day. So they can walk around, and, uh, you know..."

"Feed." Spike said through his teeth.

"Yeah."

"Feed ?" Buffy asked. "Feed on, like, grasses and flowers, or are we talking, _feed_ feed ?"

"They're not very particular." Spike added. Everyone looked at him. "What ?"

"That didn't answer the question."

"They need juices." he said, resignedly. "Look at the stains on my coat, that'll tell you how squishy they are. They like humans, naturally, you're 70 percent water." The slayer smirked at him. 

"What were you, a biology major ?" He flashed her what he hoped was a knowing yet sexy grin. 

"Field research."

"Right."

"Anyway, they don't care how they get the fluids. First or second hand, if you know what I mean. They'll eat vampires too." he grimaced. "Me, case in point. Bloke from the alley was looking for a snack."

"Is anyone else tired of finding out just how low we are on the food chain ?" Anya pouted. Xander patted her arm gently.

"We'll go to the supermarket later, honey, and look at all the things in the frozen section, that can't eat us."

"Back on topic..." Buffy interjected, "...does it give a date for this, cloud ritual ?" Willow shook her head. 

"That part's not written in English. I don't think whoever translated it knew their numeric system."

"Convenient..." her friend sniffed. "So what are we gonna do ? Just, like, watch the skies ?" There was a collective mumble from the group. Great. Another vague prediction. Get in line, Buffy thought to herself. They might have called it a day then, if Tara hadn't let out a gasp from the other side of an armchair. Willow's head snapped around.

"Tara ?"

"I-I think... you ought to look at this..." she breathed. 


	5. That's It, I'm Moving To Alaska

"We don't need her."

"Yes, we _do_ !" Lumhe shouted, and upended the table, missing the larger demon by several inches. Messy, dark hair framed his features, which were currently displaying the 'angered resolve' face. "I can't believe we're having this argument _again_ !" The K'bbeth heaved an exaggerated sigh, and decided to explain it one more time. He might be the 'master' vampire in town, but it certainly didn't mark him as bright. 

"We don't need the slayer. The ritual is not specific as to the sacrifice." he intoned. "Slayer or not, a human's blood is needed. She will be much harder to capture."

"But it can be done. I will have the slayer, on that table, in three days ! _I will have it _!" he thumped the wall with a fist, leaving several inches dented. An athlete in life, he'd lost none of his physical strength with his blood. 

"You're being childish." the greenish demon mumbled. Lumhe's grey eyes turned a decided yellow.

"Say that again." 

"You're being childish-" before the sentence was finished, the vampire's game face was on, and aimed at the K'bbeth's delicate neck. 

"One more time" he purred. The squishier demon was less than impressed, and considered having Lumhe as a snack. It would, however, leave Lumhe's considerable number of bumbling minions without a leader, and that could get annoying. 

"Not worth it." he snorted, and lumbered off in search of more available dinner. Lumhe waited until he was certain the K'bbeth had disappeared, and sank into a chair. Almost got eaten, he grinned internally. Not bad. Oh, well, if the K'bbeth don't want their slimy hides punctured by the slayer... you want something done, you gotta do it yourself. 

"Three days. It isn't much time." Buffy narrowed her eyes. Shaking her head, Willow flipped through a few more pages. 

"We don't even know for sure if that's what they're up to. It could be anything. There's other rituals. It's like, their high week or something. Major weirdness."

"And why is it always the hellmouth ?" Xander frowned. "Why can't there be a center of mystical energy in, say, the Klondike ?" The slayer's mouth turned up at one corner. 

"It's harder to axe-kick in snow pants." Buffy deadpanned. The vampire in the corner gave an appreciative snort. "Spike, you ran into one of them." she said suddenly. "Do you have anything else to add ? Anything at all, that might help ?"

"Nah. Aside from that he seemed to be doing his grocery shopping on campus..." Willow's stomach lurched, "...nothing." 

"On... campus ?" the redhead struggled. "Like... students ?" 

"Yeah." he said, and Buffy noted the absence of hostility in his voice. For a minute there, he'd actually sounded... concerned. "A couple of... little blondes. Oh, there was one thing that threw me. An arm."

"Blergh." Willow let out, and Tara wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Wasn't human, though. Vampire."

"A vampire _arm_ ?"

"Dusted half a minute after I found it. He must've just eaten."

"Great imagery..." Xander groaned.

"But that could mean that the local vamps are onto them by now. Going around eating 'em is bound to grab their attention. We, er, they, uh, hate to be one-upped." The slayer drummed her fingers on the tabletop, and looked pointedly at Spike.

"If you weren't so famous around here," she sighed, the vampire attempting to contain his swelling grin, "I'd say 'send Spike for information', but I hear none of your old buddies like hanging out anymore. That leaves us with, like, zero options, 'cause I doubt any of _you _want to play spies." Buffy gave a lopsided grin. "Guess it's got to be the old 'find 'em and kick 'em until they talk' routine." Spike's eyes lit up.

"Can't beat a classic. I'll get my coat."

"Who sent you ?"

The smallish vampire, held on his back to the ground by one scuffed Doc Marten, let out a noncommital noise. Buffy looked at Spike once, who applied a little more pressure at the heel.

"Owp !" he yelped.

"Owp ?" she said archly. "Are you guys running out of cool villan names ?"

"N-no. I'll talk. O-okay ? Just- lemme up !"

"So you can, what, breathe ?" she shrugged. "Spike- stop squishing him. You- talk." The redhead sat up slowly, rubbing his chest and shooting hateful glances at Spike. The taller vampire had a certain flashback involving an arm, and smiled dangerously back down. "Now." she added, watching them stare off. They continued the silent challenge for a few seconds, and Buffy pulled a stake from her waistband. "_Now_." she repeated, and the vamp threw his hands over his face for protection. Wrong region, the slayer in her smirked.

"Right, right !" the redhead nodded furiously. "The boss, he's real tough." he began. "Killed off most of the competition. Everyone at the warehouse is totally afraid of him. He's huge around here."

"So why haven't I heard of him ?" Spike hissed.

"Let him talk."

"He's, uh, pretty old. He's called Lumhe."

"Lum-_what_ ?" she couldn't help herself from exclaiming. "Does he know what that sounds like ?"

"Lumpy." Spike snickered. "Tosser."

"I don't see what's so funny." the weasely-looking vampire frowned. "He's the big bad around he-" the sentence abruptly died and floated off into space. The reheaded vamp found himself nose-to-nose with Spike in full game face, one steel hand snaked around his throat.

"_I'm_ the big bad around here." he said quietly. His eyes hummed yellow. 

"B-but you w-work for the slayer !" he hiccupped out. Spike shrugged, but thought for a second.

"_With_." he amended, tightening his grasp. "I changed sides. Doesn't matter. He'd better understand that if he moves into my territory, I'll decorate the town with him." Buffy, standing off to one side, rolled her eyes.

"Hate to interrupt all this male posturing," she sighed, "but we do need more information."

"All yours, pet." Spike smiled, and dropped him. He shook his game face off, and pulled out a cigarette. Ignoring him, she turned to their captive, who seemed to be trying to figure out a way to massage his sore neck and chest simultaneously. 

"Okay. So what's this _Lumhe_," she paid no attention to the sudden snickering from behind her, "doing about all the K'bbeth in town ?" The redhead actually looked surprised.

"D-doing ?" he asked.

"Did she stutter ?" Spike growled.

"N-no. No. The K'bbeth thingies, they're working for him. Or with. Whatever. All I know is, we've got to patrol with them, and they're the smelliest, nastiest things you ever saw. They're all... juicey. They make me sick." Buffy glanced over at Spike, who got the question.

"Beats me." he said. "I've never heard of 'em workin' together, but stranger things have happened. Here." he added, as an afterthought. 

"You said they... eat vampires."

"They do. Doesn't mean they won't keep their hands off the cookies if there's somethin' bigger they're after."

"Omigosh." she gasped. "Omigosh. I got it."

"Pet ?"

"The cloud cover thingie. They're working together for the cloud ritual. It's what they have in common, they can't bear the sun. They've got to be working together so they can..." and Spike's words echoed in her ears. _Feed_. "Omigosh." she finished. 

"Feeding frenzy." he recognized her idea. "All fits." he seemed to recall a similar plan, one he'd liked at the time. Today, the thought made him vaguely ill. He indicated the vampire still sitting between them. "Little tosser said warehouse. Predictable bastards." She nodded.

"Can we focus back on me ?" the diminutive vamp frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've got places to go... people to eat." he continued, puffing out his chest a little bit. It was bad enough that they were interrogating him, but he felt he was being ignored because of his size. Happened a lot back when he was alive. The bleached-blonde vampire looked down at him, and smiled. 

Eric, because that was his name, felt his stomach lurch.

"Let's." Spike said, and pulled something wooden out of a pocket. 


	6. Flashback

The river was running red. It made her a little queasy. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes off of it. Because there he was, wading in it up to his waist, trying to reach the bank where she stood. The current's too strong, she realized, he'll be sucked under. But he kept on coming, practically maroon where the 'water' had touched him, fighting, struggling, dying.

Dying.

It wasn't fair. 

She couldn't stop it.

She cried out.

And the river swallowed him up and spit him out onto the shore, leaving a crimson streak across the earth where it'd flung him. He stood up, shakily, and faced her, and the sun came out.

Burning. 

Horrible, horrible burning.

She screamed, and was drowned out by an awful shrieking-

"EEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-"

"Buffy !" Dawn yelled. "Where's the stupid off switch on this ?!" lifting her head from the kitchen counter, Buffy watched her little sister frantically shake the round white object in her hands. The one that horrendous racket was coming from. "Buffy ! A little help ?" she said, exasperated. The slayer's mind shifted into gear.

"Bottom, Dawn. Little red button."

"Thanks." she breathed, and the shrilling ceased. "Geez, you tell _me_ not to burn the house down," she pointed to the microwave, which was clouded from the inside, "so watch it, huh ? You forget how to make popcorn ?" Buffy shook her head, hoping perhaps she could shake off that terrible fear from her dream as well. 

"Sorry. Just... fell asleep for a second." she yawned widely, and Dawn's displeased eyes warmed to her.

"Hey. No biggie. You know, you like like crap." she said helpfully. "You ought to just forget the movie and get some sleep."

"Oh, thanks." Buffy groaned. "But you're probably right." she slid off the stool and ambled to the doorway, pausing for a moment to watch Dawn rummaging in the fridge. "When did you become such a... little caretaker ?" she said softly. Dawn tilted her head to the side, and for one beautiful, blessed moment, Buffy could see her mother's smile rising in one corner of Dawn's.

"Dunno." she said, and stuck a celery stick in her mouth. "I'm jusht a natshural, I guesh."

Alone in her room, Buffy watched the trees' shadows snake lines across her ceiling. She thought about the small vampire she and Spike had cornered, not more than a few hours ago, and wondered why she had such a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She'd seen him before, she knew it, out of the corner of her eyes, watching her, following her. Probably working for Lumpy- she found herself giggling inappropriately- and finding out what my patterns are, where I patrol. Yuck. The thought of those icky yellow eyes tracing her movements made her shiver. That's the kind of thing Spike used to send minions for, she remembered. Weird. Better just not to remember things like that. But it probably means Lumhe is doing the same thing. Is it just to know the score- or does he have his sights set on... a slayer ?

"I really need to get some sleep." she mumbled, and pressed her face against her pillow. So why was the little vampire still looking at her from behind her eyelids ? 

A weight settled in her stomach.

Slipping out of the covers, she crossed the room to her bookcase, and pulled out her yearbook. Senior year. She flipped through the pages for a while, until one caught her eye.

Eric Kirkwood.

Biology major, it said, with a scholarship.

Smart.

He smiled out from the pages.

Nice. 

Dead.

She made it all the way to the bathroom before she threw up.

The door flew back, flapping in an awkward manner. Really ought to deadbolt it, or reinforce it, or bloody well do something. It's becoming a symbol, rather than an impediment. A metaphysical door. Bloody undignified.

"Slayer. To what do I owe the honor of thi- Buffy ?" he stopped short. "You alright ?"

The eyes were what hurt to look at. She looked like he had occasionally, mostly when coming off of a three-day bender, but the eyes were alert. They were miserable, and asked questions he couldn't begin to answer.

"I'd like to talk." she said. If that wasn't an understatement, he'd eat... well, something. He offered her a chair, and she sat in it. Just like that. No 'what a crappy chair, Spike'. Something was extremely wrong.

"Something's wrong." he said, figuring the obvious was a good start. Followed up with a bid for her attention. "You like like crap." Something flashed across her face. A good sign. "What's eatin' you ?"

"Not you." she grinned, a little humor entering those eyes. "But seriously... the vamp we staked earlier... yesterday." He noticed that her eyes were a little red.

"Short carrot-head. Yeah."

"His name was Eric."

"Oh." the enormity of that hit him for a moment. She knew him. Probably one of her little high-school buddies. Well, life could be a right bitch that way. Particularly on the hellmouth. "I'm... sorry." She flashed him an odd look. From here, she could see that his face was open, and she could almost see down into him, read his thoughts. There was a thin line of hurt buried behind the cocky grin. Have I ever looked like this to him ? Open ? And honest ?

"You know what ?" she said slowly. "I think you are."

"What's that supposed to mean ?"

"I really think you are... sorry. I couldn't believe it for a long time. You're a vampire."

"Brilliant deduction, Holmes." he smirked automatically, and instantly regretted it.

"Whatever." she rolled her eyes. "I guess it doesn't stop you from being a jerk. But... you really do... care... don't you ?" He struggled with that for a moment. Tell her yes, admit to her that I still love her, probably always will, and get it smashed right back into my face- or tell her no, lie, and leave it at that. 

"Yes." he said. Let 'er rip, he thought grimly.

Which is why he was totally unprepared when she pulled him into her kiss.

Humans, unlike vampires, feel this certain need to breathe. Buffy was feeling it now, but this urge was the only thing strong enough to be dragging her out of Spike's embrace. Apparently he'd woken up from his stupor somewhere along the way, and was busy returning her hungry kiss with equal parts ferocity and tenderness. They parted, and she drew in a giant breath.

"Oh." he said, stupidly. She smoothed her hand along his hairline, feeling for the first time how soft the curls at his forehead really were. "Oh." he said again, and she laughed.

"Oh ?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I was afraid I'd get something like 'is that all you got, Summers ?'" she giggled. He gave her a sideways grin.

"That all you got, Summers ?" he purred, and tackled her. They kissed again, urgently. His cool hands warmed as they came in contact with her skin, sending wonderful shivers up her spine. Spike shivers. Shivers she shouldn't be having. 

"O-oops." she said, and sat up, nearly tossing him off of her.

"Oops ?" his blue eyes mirrored only her. "Buffy..."

"Yeah." her voice was a whisper.

"Why did you do that ?" There were several ways she could have answered that, and he feared them all, for different reasons. 

"Don't know." she shrugged. "I wanted to."

"Good enough." he said enthusiastically, and leaned towards her again. She put a shaking hand against his chest, lighter than a feather, and he stopped. He watched her eyes change color. "Pet ?"

"Don't." she said helplessly. "I... oh, don't."

"Don't what ?"

"Make me want to kiss you again. Please. Not now." she glanced around at the coat, which had somehow worked its way off of her shoulders and across the room. At least the shirt was intact. "I- I have to go."

"You just got here." he joked, but there was no humor in his voice. She had come, and she had kissed him, and she'd decided it was a mistake. That he was a mistake. Bloody freaking mucked-up sodding- his mind began shouting, but she wasn't getting up. She was just sitting there, looking at him and the door, as if choosing between two expensive pairs of pants. 

"I have to go." she said again, and got up. Then she turned and wrapped herself around him again, but without the same passionate urgency. There was need in it, but not the kind of need that fueled Spike's hungry dreams. She'd spent that on the kisses. He looked down at her, her arms wrapped around his neck, and realized he'd needed the same thing from her, not two days ago. Comfort. Strength. Whatever. There wasn't a name for it just now, but there was something he could do about it. 

He held her to him, rocking ever so slightly.

"There, love." he whispered. "There, pet." I'm sorry, he wanted to say, but there were no words for that. 


	7. The Cool Name Shortage Reaches Crisis Po...

"What it boils down to is- they're dead, and you're not."

"Right." she handed him a can of creamed corn. "Who eats this ?" she grimaced. He regarded it with distaste and dropped it into the 'donate' box. 

"Not me. Blech. So why is that a problem ?" she looked up at him from where she was sorting the cans on the bottom shelves, a kerchief keeping the hair out of her face. 

"Because. I feel almost like... I haven't done my job. I lived, they died. I died... they still died. So where do I fit in ?"

"You keep the apocalypses to a minimum." he grinned. "Where does this go ?"

"Very funny. Third shelf."

Social Services had come and gone without too much eyebrow-raising, but Buffy still felt a certain shrinking paranoia when faced with housework. Better to get it all over with, she reasoned. She'd attacked the bathrooms at nine, with the kitchen following at quarter after twelve, leading into the dining room at a solid three-thirty. Living room was on Dawn's shift, since she'd come home from afterschool clubs just in time to be handed a feather duster by a smudged-looking but triumphant Buffy. When Spike had showed up around six, the weight in Buffy's stomach had dropped, as she'd expected, but she was able to ignore it as long as there were things to be sorted, labeled, discarded, and scrubbed to a shine. They were covering the last territory now, the basement, and things were looking bleaker by the minute. When the last of the cans were brought upstairs, there would be time for... talking. Dangerous talking. Talking that might lead to... again, with the insane shivers !... kissing. Kissing that wouldn't be totally unpleasant, as it ought to be.

"Earth to the slayer." he waved a box of 'Dial' bars in front of her face. "Where does this go ?"

"Just... put it in the upstairs box..." she stammered. "No, no, the other one. You know, I asked Giles if he wanted me to search the warehouses for the Lumpy gang..." they shared a quiet chuckle, "and he gave me the 'Buffy's lost it' look."

"Shows good sense on his part. No use in you hunting trouble. At least, not like that."

"Hmm."

"Done yet ?" he sighed. "You've been rearranging those cans for a sodding half-hour."

"Pardon me, oh king-of-housework, but last time I checked your crypt could have used a dusting. And a scrubbing. With sandblasting for the nasty stains." she continued, and he threw up his hands in defeat. "Hmph."

She stood up and surveyed her work. It was true. If she messed with the cupboards anymore, she'd wear a hole in them. It was anxiety, definitely. The wish to avoid... confrontations. Well, just one confrontation. Never mind ! she wanted to shout at herself. Stop thinking about it !

"You gonna patrol, or you want me to cover it ?" he broke in. Buffy glared at him.

"I'm gonna patrol." she sniffed her clothes. "Buh. As soon as I change my shirt." Personally, Spike thought she smelled fine. Alright, his senses were defining it as 'tantalizing', but he was settling for calling it fine. To his jaded nostrils, nothing was quite like eau de Buffy's-been-exerting-herself. He followed her upstairs, both of them loaded with boxes that would have caused ordinary humans to crumple. He dumped the 'donate' box in the back of the kitchen, and slumped into a living room chair. "I'll be a minute !" she called from the top of the stairs. 

A shadow passed over his face as it sometimes did, and that night was suddenly alive in front of him, in technicolor and surround sound.

_"I know you never loved me... I know I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that's... go on. Get your things. I'll be here."_

He scrunched his fists against his eyes, willing himself not to let it out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You dumb sod. She's back, and every time something reminds you, you go all poncey on me. Just that I can barely believe... she's really here. Really real. She walked into the living room, and he leapt into a more casual pose. An eyebrow lifted, but if she'd seen tears, she didn't say anything.

"Ready to go." she said.

"It's not like it was a great show or anything."

"Bloody well was. A classic."

"They just drove around and arrested people. Talked over a fake radio. You could tell the background was fake when they were driving, even. Lame."

"It was great television. Better the crap that's on now."

"Oh, like 'Passions' ?"

"Leave off. That's different."

"Whatever you say."

"I'm just saying it was unfairly taken off the air-"

"Come on ! We're talking about _Adam-12_, here !"

"What's that supposed to mean ?"

"It means-" Buffy was preparing an especially cutting retort when a vampire body-checked her into a tree. Spike roared into action, knocking the vampire off of her, but once she was on her feet, Buffy indicated that this one was hers. "I was talking !" she yelled, and drove both of her fists into its midsection. He flew backwards, but rolled to his feet, snarling. Buffy was nonplussed. "You know, I forgot my insult." she pouted, and drew a stake from her belt.

"This one's not a fledgling, love." Spike said to her under his breath. Nothing she couldn't handle, however.

"Right."

They moved at nearly the same time, Buffy and the vampire facing off against her, but she was faster, blocking his punch easily. She delivered a one-two punch to the face, a jab to the solar plexus, and swept out his feet. He reached for her ankle, but she sidestepped and kicked him neatly in the ribs. Buffy drove the stake home, and wiped the dust from her shoes onto the grass. "It was a really good one, too." she said to the small pile of ash. Spike clapped. 

"First-rate. Ten seconds."

"Thank you, thank you..." Buffy said to an imaginary crowd, and did a neat little bow. As she came up, she heard Spike snarl, and a twig snap. "Spike ?"

They were not alone. Very, very not alone.

There had to be at least twenty vampires surrounding them. The edges of the crowd faded into the darkness, but their eyes made little pools of yellow fire against the black. She forced herself to breathe evenly, and began furiously seeking a weak spot in the ring with her eyes. Breathe, Buffy. A real welcome-home party. Beside her, she felt Spike flex, and his game face appeared. 

"Company, pet." he replied, through clenched teeth. "Time to put out the good china."

At times like this, the earth stopped, and there were three things in Buffy's world.

Me.

Spike.

The enemy.

She couldn't see him, fighting somewhere behind and to her left, but she could feel him moving alongside of her. Left hook, spinning kick to the head, take one down. Do it again. Dodge. Let Spike sweep past her, take this one out. Elbow to the solar plexus, backfist. Do it again. Jump one, stake the other. Flip over Spike's back, plant both feet into someone's face. Do it again. Sweep, stake, punch, stake, block, stake. Do it again. One two, one two three. One two, one two three. 

"Lovely..." Lumhe purred, watching them cut a path through his minions. "Just lovely."

"Should we send the rest ?" said the K'bbeth at his elbow. 

The girl in the darkness stood up, and threw a vampire off of her partner's back. Without looking at each other, they flung themselves back into the fight, fists working in perfect synch. 

"Not yet." he sighed. "Let them have their moment."

Breathe, Buffy.

One, two, stake.

Breathe. 

That was ten. _Ten_ ?!

Breathe.

Flip, kick. Ow, my arm. Punch. Punch, punch. For good measure. Punch. Stake.

Eleven. 

Breathe. 

Close your eyes. _Feel_ it.

Twelve.

Open your eyes.

Spike was panting, something Buffy found terribly amusing. Guess breathing is a hard habit to break after all.

"Nine." he said.

"Twelve." she replied, without smirking. 

Breathe.

"Buffy..." he said softly, voice low. "Buffy."

She went into his arms, and together they sank to the ground. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, smelling her, kissing the top of her head, while she breathed into his chest. I didn't have to watch him while we were fighting. It was like... knowing the sky was blue, without looking at it. I have to spend the rest of my life fighting vampires. I don't want to do it without him. I don't want to do anything without him. 

Her senses stretched out and touched something, and came back to her screaming warnings. They parted, and stood up, back to back. There was a second where they could have run, maybe. But only maybe. It passed. 

"Good evening, slayer." Lumhe drawled. 

"You guys have _got_ to invest in some new opening lines." she said softly, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the vampires that stretched out across the graveyard, several rows thick. The horde was peppered with hulking, slimy K'bbeths, which the vampires were eyeing nervously. 

"These are my brethren", he continued theatrically, "the Khlouds." Spike snorted inappropriately.

"You've kidding. Tell me you're kidding." Buffy grinned. Spike attempted to say something, but it was lost in snickering.

"Khlouds !" he managed to sputter. He spat out something else, that could have been 'ponce'. Lumhe didn't look like he thought it was funny. 

"Your laughter is ill-timed, Slayer, and you, turncoat." Spike said 'ponce' again, and doubled over. Lumhe frowned, and cleared his throat. "Your laughter is ill-timed, Sla-"

"Caught that part." she twirled her stake. "I'm waiting for the part where you all promise to catch the sunrise tomorrow." Lumhe's face lost its arrogant sneer.

"You wish." he said in a normal voice, and took a step to the left. 

Buffy had never been attacked in a literal wave before. None of them broke rank, or stepped up to attack her one-on-one. They simply acted like they were going to wash over and across her, in perfect formation. She kicked the first row, knocked a couple down, staked a couple, all in the first few seconds. By the time she was getting to the remaining vampires, the next row had already advanced and was reaching for her. Spike was beside her, both hands bleeding at the knuckles, but not pulling his punches in the slightest. 

"I'm- gonna- make- a- hole..." he punctuated his quiet sentence with blows, "and- you're- gonna- run."

"No."

"_Yes_ !" he shouted, and flung a vampire bodily into the next wave, knocking three more down. His ferocity caused the next line to pause, for a second. It was all he needed. He grabbed her away from the one she was fighting, staked it, and shoved her towards the street. "_GO_ !" he hissed, and for once in her life, she listened to him. Buffy took off, and a few of the brighter minions finally broke rank and took off after her. They were no match, however, for a slayer with a mission. Especially not in sensible shoes. She paused on the corner to stake two of them, and took off again, still hearing Spike's gleeful roar echoing through the air. 

"Come on, you blighters. That's right ! The big bad's ready for you !"

I'm coming back, she cried out in her mind. With reinforcements. _I'm coming back_. So please, please...

... _hang on _!


	8. Where Did You Sleep Last Night ?

"Anya, baby, we're gonna be late !" The blonde emerged from the bedroom, looking flustered, with only one shoe.

"I can't find it ! It's going to ruin everything !" she wailed. "I'm getting married, and I have an appointment with a real photographer who's really going to be at my real wedding, and I can't find my shoe, and it's all going to be over !" she bawled, and Xander tried very hard not to crack a grin.

"It's next to the couch, honey."

"Oh." she slipped her foot into the shoe and beamed at him. "Ready now !"

"That's my girl." he planted a quick kiss on her lips. "And don't be nervous." he added lovingly, omitting the second part of that sentence, which was 'cause I'm nervous enough for the both of us'. 

"I'm not." she replied brightly. "I was hysterical. It's different."

Xander flicked the radio controls absently, while Anya double-checked her list.

"I want a big picture of just us. And then a couple with us and the wedding party... and a couple more of us."

"I think that's the general idea." he grinned. "It's not like they drag people in off the street and say 'hey ! stand here."

"Do you think they'd take one of my dress ? Because it was really expensive."

"You don't know until you ask." he turned left onto a small street that ran alongside the cemetery. Talk about bad business locations, he thought. A photography business across from a cemetery, on the hellmouth. That's like putting an airfield in the Bermuda Triang- it couldn't be. He nearly hit the brakes in the middle of the street. "It couldn't be."

"You don't think they'll take the dress picture ?" Anya frowned. He shook his head.

"That's not what I meant. Look, over there." he pulled the car to the curb, put it in park, and pointed. In the rapidly shrinking shade of a mausoleum, a figure in all black was huddled. "Doesn't that look like..."

"Spike ?"

He could hear voices. A couple of them. Calling him.

"Spike !"

"Hey- Spike !"

Oh, good. I still have both ears, apparently.

He would have liked to get up and see where the voices were coming from. He couldn't seem to remember how to move his neck, though. 

I'm not even sure where my neck is, actually. Somewhere to the left of everything that hurts. 

"Spike ! What the hell are you doing ?"

"Spike ! Sun ! Lots of sun !"

They were getting closer. Something touched his arm.

"Bhloody helsh." Spike hissed, out of the corner of his broken mouth. "Mffgrhit." Xander removed his hand, and stepped back in horror. He'd seen Spike beaten, seen him bloody, seen him cry. But he'd never seen him look so much like... hamburger. 

"What happened ?"

"Mfargit. Bhuffy. Whehrr's Bhuffy ?"

It was hideous, and terribly sad, watching him try to talk. It was obvious his jaw was broken, possibly more than once, and few places on his face had kept a human coloring. Instead, he was painted like a Picasso, in shades of blue and purple. The platinum part of his head stuck up proudly, where it wasn't matted with blood. And for the first time, Xander noticed the hands clutching the duster around him. Split, skinned knuckles, with bone sticking out in several places. The dark-haired man gagged. 

"Spike- don't try to talk. We're gonna get you out of here. Hon, get me the jacket from the trunk, ok ?" She ran off, while Xander bent down over the wrecked vampire. "Man. Man, oh, man."

"It's just a simple spell. But he'll sleep for a while." Willow motioned at the back room. "He... he looks like he needs it." Xander ran a hand through his hair. 

"Huh. Have you ever seen... ?"

"No."

"We were just driving to the photographer's... that's why Anya's a little sulky, but trying not to show it- we missed the appointment, said we got a flat... but, anyway, we were driving.... and I just see him... sitting there. He was trying to stay out of the sun, I think, but that wasn't going to last for much longer."

"Was there anything else around ? Like, uh, a demon corpse or something ? 'Cause Spike tends not to clean up after himself."

"No, nothing. Just... a lot of blood. A lot of blood, and gushy-ness. All over the cemetery. It was mostly drying up, but... something big happened last night. It looks like it happened right on top of Spike." Willow nodded. She'd never seen hands like that. They were barely hands at all. A message flashed across her brain.

"Buffy should know about this." she said firmly. "We're supposed to be looking out for those-"

"K'bbeth." Giles finished for her, appearing in the doorway with a wrinkled black mass. "Sorry. But that's what the mess all over his coat is. We've been looking for them... and it appears Spike found them."

"In a big way." Xander whistled. "So what's the deal ?"

"We call Buffy." Willow answered. "And hope that she's got some ideas." She went to the phone. Giles turned back to Xander.

"Willow says you found him in the cemetery... was he coherent at all ?"

"Well, minus the broken jaw thing..."

"Mm."

"I second that noise of disgust. He's not on my favorite people list... but he's not on my 'deserves a broken jaw' list at the moment either." Giles gave a slight nod. "All he said was... well, I think it was swearing. You're British, you would've caught it. Oh, yeah, and he was trying to say 'Buffy', but adding extra-slurry syllables."

"I can imagine..."

At that moment, the phone crashed to the floor. The two men whipped around and stared at Willow, who was holding the humming receiver in one hand. Her face was chalk-white.

"Will ?"

"That was Dawn." she said, shaking. "She was patrolling with Spike. And sh-she didn't come home last night."


	9. Get Ready

She was so cold.

So very cold.

Lips like ice touched her brow.

"Awaken..." he said, softly, caressing her with his voice. "My own..."

"Sicko." she choked out, and opened her eyes. The demon in Lumhe seized his features for a second, but he beat it back down. 

"That's not polite."

"Yeah, well, neither is chaining people up." Buffy spat. He frowned at her, and she rolled her eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he thought. She was supposed to be enthralled with his mystic dark-ness, or fearful, or desperate. He would've settled for uncertainty at this point. But the bruised blonde whirlwind in front of him just seemed peeved, like he'd interrupted a pedicure or something.

"You've been chosen for a great honor."

"I've heard that line before." And died for it twice, her mind finished. The all-purpose chosen one, for your mystic needs. Whitens tile, in a pinch. "Why don't you be a good little villain and explain everything while I figure out how to pick the lock ?"

"You watch too many movies." he said, unintentionally letting the 'Lestat' accent slip out of his voice. "You know that ?"

"Well excuse me, so do you, no-pulse." she glanced expressively out into the distance. "You have been chosen for a great honor..." she drawled. He bared impressive fangs at her, and she shut up; but the furious look in her eyes would've scorched asbestos. 

"Shut up, slayer." he gestured around the 'ceremonial chamber' and the various half-assed urn and magical object set-ups. "This... is your destiny. To be the implement by which day is brought into night. To be the sacrifice which will cease the agony of the light."

"Oh, goodie." Ignoring her, Lumhe began pacing the floor.

"My kind dwells in darkness... thrives on it. To feed in the day is our great dream... and you, well, more specifically... your blood... will make this possible."

"Give it a rest. We know about the stupid spell. It's only for a single day. You're a nitwit if you think that's gonna make some huge difference."

"A single day, certainly, wouldn't be enough." he agreed, and his tone sent a chill through her.

He didn't do all this for a single day.

"Different spell ?" she finally managed to get out.

"No." he said casually. He lifted a lock of her hair and smelled it, while she winced. His eyes leveled with hers. "Different ingredients."

"I'll bloody fucking _KILL_ HIM !" Spike lunged at the door... or attempted to lunge at the door, and had to settle for an extremely angry shuffle. "I'll bloody cut all their bloody heads off a bloody fucking _inch_ at a bloody time !" Giles and Xander each put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"It's not... it won't do any good to be this way." Giles said finally. "We can plan, and hope, but it's best not to lose our-"

"Let the bloody hell go of me I'll bloody fucking _kill_ 'em ! I'll rip 'em open and spit on their bloody insides- let me_ GO _!" He threw them off, winced at the fresh pain from the chip, and collapsed in a heap against the doorframe. "I bloody well will." he finished lamely, and turned great miserable eyes on the two men. "I will."

"Hey... not doubting the whole 'rip 'em open' vengeance thing... but you're looking more like a gyro than a hero, if you know what I'm saying. With your..." Xander cringed internally, "...finger bones like that, you shouldn't be ripping much more than kleenex for a while."

"Bloody fucking kill 'em." he whispered. "I can't believe they have her."

"We don't even know that for sure..." Giles remarked, knowing it wasn't true. "She could be... in one of those places that, uh, young ladies go, or on patrol, or... or, kidnapped." He sighed. "Money on kidnapped."

"Hey, guys ?" Willow stepped into the training room. "Big info. The warehouses we were looking at ? One just got vacant about two months ago- but according to security reports, there's been night-time activity in the lower levels. Nothing solid, but..."

"It's a start."

"How did you... ?" Giles said, taking off his glasses. The redhead shrugged, and smiled shyly.

"Floaty-magic me's been getting all the face time lately. Hacker-me wanted to get useful."

"Axes ?"

"Check."

"Dusty sparkly-powder stuff ?"

"Xander ! That's not what it's called."

"Excuse me, oh 'queen of herb lore'. But do we have any ?"

"Check."

"Stakes ?"

"Been whittling 'em myself. Check."

"Crossbow."

"Check. Xander said I could have the crossbow, because I'm not good at hitting things."

"Uh... that sounds fine, Anya. Anything else ?"

"Knives... for you. To float, I mean."

"Thanks, sweetie."

"Giles, this stuff works on... those giant boogers, too, right ?"

"Yes. Spike killed one with his Bowie knife, so an axe should be more than adequate..."

"That's what I like to hear."

"However, none of us are Spike. Normally, I'd say 'hurrah', but..."

"You would not say 'hurrah'."

"Excuse me ?"

"You, saying 'hurrah' ? No way. Something more subdued, like 'excellent'. In a calm voice."

"Xander ?"

"Yeah ?"

"Stow it."

"You all hear that ?!"

"Dawnie... are you gonna be okay, here ?" The dark-haired girl flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder.

"I'll be fine." she said softly. Willow smoothed a hand over her forehead. Yeah, your previously dead sister just got kidnapped again. Fine. Right.

"I know." she said. "I'm scared, too. We just got her back, huh ?" she joked feebly. "So we're gonna go take care of this. I need you to stay here, and take care of Spike." the younger girl's eyes lit up with warmth at the mention of his name.

"I will." Willow nodded, gave her a final pat on the arm, and turned to leave the training room. As she did, her glance fell on Spike, sleeping again, still turning various, sickening shades of purple. I hope... I hope we can do this without him. I never thought that we'd need him like this. But we do. Oh, we do.

"Yeah. Oh, and, Dawn ?"

"Hm ?"

"If he wakes up... don't- tell Spike where we've gone."

"Got it." Satisfied, Willow rejoined the others on the shop floor.

"Dawnster's all set up ?" Xander asked over his shoulder, stuffing the last weapons into a duffel. She nodded. "Okay, team... Operation Nab The Cheese is underway."

"Uh... 'Nab the Cheese' ?"

"Well, Buffy's the Big Cheese, and we're... uh, running out of cool operation names, so let's just get in the car, alright ?"

"Before we..." Giles cleared his throat, and reached to clean his spectacles. Am I that predictable ? he found himself wondering. "Before we all charge off, let me remind you... that what we are facing is what... did _that_ to Spike. Am I being clear enough ?" Willow and Tara fidgeted with their bags.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"The wards will be up on everyone... it's not a perfect system, but it should keep everybody out of major trouble for... as long as we need." 

They filed out, and locked the heavy door behind them. It jingled, twice.

"Good luck." Dawn said, softly.

"Spike... Spike, can you sit up ?" The vampire's baby blue eyes flitted open. He sighed.

"Bleedin'... I'm not that bad off, Niblet." he sat up, a little too fast, and sucked back a growl of pain. She was watching him with those great brown eyes. Those eyes, that in a strange way, reminded him of her sister. She held out a mug. "What's this ?..." he sniffed at it. "Buffy been teaching you to nuke this ? Mug of ninety-eight point five, am I correct ?" She nodded.

"Yeah... it's icky, so just take it already."

"Right." He took the mug from her, letting it warm his hands. He glanced around the training room, and the blankets he'd been lying on, and noticed... the utter lack of sound from the front of the store. "Dawn..." he said, edgy.

"What ?"

"Where are they ?"

"Where are who ?"

"Don't." He frowned at her, and she could feel the internal Dawn lie-defense system breaking down. If Buffy ever perfects that frown, she realized, I'm toast.

"They're... out. They said to take care of you."

"So they've gone out after her."

"Yeah. Hey, don't !" he was standing up, and reaching for his shoes. Dawn grabbed them out of his reach. He faced her, angrily. 

"Dawn-"

"You haven't even touched your dinner." she said firmly.

"If that's what's botherin' you..." he lifted it to his lips and downed it in an instant. "There." And in the second after he smirked at her, his face went soft, and then fearful. Dawn watched him, leaning slightly on the side of her feet, like she did when she was nervous. "Dawnie..." he said, and sank to the floor. There was a fierce warmth in his arms, spreading through him, devouring him. Buffy's face flashed in his mind. God, no, it can't end like this... not knowing... 

"Your hands..." Dawn said, apparently not terribly fazed. He thought, distantly, that maybe she knew something he didn't, but for now he just gazed stupidly at his, raw, red.... _healing... _knuckles.

"Bugger me." he managed to get out, before he blacked out completely.


	10. Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

He was still lying in the same place. That was good. Probably meant Dawn hadn't been brainwashed by some kind of vampire-kidnapping cult, or anything horrific and improbable like that. But when his jaw healed, he was gonna give her a talking-to that she'd.... wait. He rolled his chin, tentatively.

Oh, this was new.

The lack of pain was definitely one of the high points of his day. He lifted his head a little, and his arms, and looked at them. Pale, and skinny, and devoid of those lovely black-and-blue roses. He flexed his knuckles, rolled to his feet, and sprang up in a fluid motion that defied gravity. All systems go.

"Dawn !" he called out, in a better voice than the 'broken jaw shuffle'. "Dawn !" he bellowed again, and her rosy face appeared from the other side of the door.

"Hey !" she said cheerily, but didn't walk any closer. He grinned at her.

"I'm not mad at you... I just want to know... what the hell was in that blood ?"

"You know... pig... a little wheetabix, I know you like it... and, uh... a little Key."

"Bloody_ hell_- Dawn ! What were you _thinking_ ?!"

"It worked, didn't it ?" There, that was it. The flash behind her eyes. What reminded him of Buffy. When she was being a stubborn pain in the ass. How he loved her. "I tried it, and it worked."

"You... how ?"

"Just a papercut. No biggie."

"Dawnie... it's a huge biggie. You shouldn't have... I... Buffy will... Niblet. I'm not worth it. You understand ?"

"No I don't." she jutted her chin out, defensively. "I need you to be well, so you can go get Buffy back." He looked at her for a moment. She was shaking inside. His heightened sense of smell told him that much. But she was handling it well. Perhaps that, too, was hereditary. If hereditary had anything to do with this strange, wonderful girl in front of him. 

Mental note : have Giles continue the 'Key' research. Whatever she was made of, it packed quite a punch.

"Now that..." he said, reaching for his coat, "..._I_ understand."

He'd seen the moon before. Seen it white, seen it half-covered by clouds, seen it redder than heart's blood. Seen a lot of moons. Thousands of 'em. It was the vampire's sun, the ever-present light in the sky of the vampire's day. It had watched Spike turn, watched him hunt and fight, and more recently, watched him spend sleepless nights crouched in the hollow of the slayer's front yard tree. The moon was tough. It had never flinched from looking at him before - it knew him, accepted him, after a fashion. He'd drunk from pale necks, and the moon never once so much as blinked. But she was hiding her face now, in the clouds, and quivering a little at the expression on his face. 

There was no need for game face tonight. What he was thinking needed no wrinklies to convey the emotion. Two things on his mind : blood and Buffy. Not necessarily in that order. A third thought flashed across his mind - when was the ritual ? And a fourth - how long ago did they leave ? 

He broke into a run. 

"Giles... that's it. That's the one."

"Alright, everyone. On your game, now.... on three."

"One."

"Two."

"Hello, all."

"Spike ! What the hell ?"  
"Sorry to disturb..." he flexed his fingers, displaying the fresh skin, "...but this is really my party, too." They regarded him with a mixture of grateful surprise and blatant shock. Xander regained his composure first.

"What's with the vamp-repair ?"

"Actually, I'm not sure myself..." but he shot Giles a 'let's talk' glance. The older man nodded. The six of them continued, warily along the fence-line separating them from the warehouse. Vaguely, noise seemed to be coming from the lower floors. Most likely where they've... got her, Spike thought, forbidding that fear to rise up in his throat. No use getting all misty-eyed just now. Got work to do. "Eh, watcher..." he indicated hulking shapes at a break in the fence, "... I'd wager that's our welcoming committee."

"Spike ?"

"I'd love to do the honors." Got to test out my new Key super-elixir, he grinned internally. How about it, you juicy buggers ? "Uh... you got anything fun in there ?" he pointed to Willow's duffel bag. She unzipped it, and drew out a wicked-looking blade.

"It's Buffy's." she explained. He whistled admiringly. 

"She's got taste." he tested its weight in his hand, fingers settling into the grooves like well broken-in gloves. Perfect. Spike grinned, ear to ear. "It'll do. Get down, and stay down 'till I call you."

_Snap _!

One.

_Slice_ !

Two.

_Snap_ ! 

"Ow ! You poncey git-"

_Thud_ ! _Slice_ !

Three.

"Just don't make sentries like they used to..." Spike surveyed the leaking K'bbeth bodies, satisfaction glinting in his yellow eyes. They went down a lot easier when you were aiming from behind. Probably a good thing to remember. The whelp and the others came out from behind the bushes, a little prematurely. "All clear." he sighed. They just don't listen, do they ?

"That was quick." Anya said admiringly. "You really are fixed." He bristled a little at the wording, but kept it reined in.

"In a manner of speaking. You lot have a plan ?" No one met his gaze. "Or is it just a full-on charge ?"

"We were thinking, grab Buffy and run." Willow piped up. "But now that you're here..."

"Oh, don't worry, Red. I'd like to have a little fun, if that's all right with you."

"More than alright." Giles muttered. Spike raised an approving eyebrow.

"That's more like it, Ripper. On three, then."

Buffy wanted to keep her eyes open. Really she did. It was just that... everytime she tried... they'd get all heavy, and her head would get floaty...

"Skies, accept our offering... let your golden eye be shut... let a new peace come... let the moon reign..."

There was something she was supposed to do... Dawn... 

"Let the clouds cool the earth, let the night be free..."

But her eyes... she just couldn't stay awake... maybe... that voice... maybe she should just... go to sleep...

"_Outtamywayyousonsabitches_ ! _Spike's here _!" and the distinct sound of an axe burying itself in something slimy, snapped the slayer in her to immediate attention.

"Here !" she cried out ! "I'm over here !" Where's here ? her mind asked. Buffy raised her head, realizing she couldn't move much else, and gasped. 

Apparently Lumhe's gang was good at something- and that was interior decorating, albeit in a 'wicked vampire overlord meets Martha Stewart' way. Dried flowers and all. She was on a low platform, stone from the feel, draped with velvet, and with a strange gold groove along one side. The whole room was draped in rich fabrics, ornate antique mirrors scattered here and there (hello, irony ! she smirked), and the whole room had a lush, Victorian feel. She noted, absently, that the huge windows at the top of the room were covered by drapes the size of Buicks. It might have been neat to look at, if she hadn't been chained in the middle of everything. 

Fighting seemed to be going on, somewhere to her left, and when she swiveled her head she could make out a few of her friends, whacking at great slimy green things with whatever was handy. Willow and Tara had their eyes shut, chanting, and whenever a vampire seemed to get too close, he went 'poof'. Neat trick. And, oh, a black blur with a sword cutting his way through everything, making a straight line towards her. She allowed herself the momentary luxury of watching, and remembered what had happened the last time she'd seen him. She'd run off, looking for help, and left him. And hadn't gotten very far. There was a bump on her head that fit in very nicely with her fuzzy memory of blacking out. I hate it when they get sneaky. But watching him now, it was like that night hadn't ended, after all.

"Be a minute, pet !" he yelled, over the top of a now-headless vampire, which dusted before him. Two more jumped onto him, and Xander managed to shove a stake through one of their backs. Spike chopped, twice, and shot a friendly glance Xander's way. "Good work." he had time to say, before another couple of vamps launched themselves at the pair.

On the far side of the room, Lumhe's voice could be heard, still trying to finish the chanting.

"Oh, clouds of thunder and wind... just _kill_ them, ok ? Stop distracting me ! Clouds of... _no_ ! Just go over there and surround 'em ! I'm _busy_ !" Even his game face seemed particularly twisted-up with rage. Setting the book down, he surveyed the room. It was about a hundred to six, but even with those odds, his minions didn't seem to be doing very well... what the hell was that ? He watched Spike slice off three heads in a smooth gesture. Huh. Coulda fooled me, he thought. Last time I saw him he had some serious bone-knitting to attend to. Oh, well. A K'bbeth tackled the peroxide vampire, and Lumhe smirked- until he watched the sword come up in the middle of it's back and split it open like a melon.

So much for that idea. On to Plan B.


	11. Best For Last

Spike was enjoying himself. A bit too much, perhaps.

"Slimy buggers ! Come to Daddy !"

_Slice_ !

The blood was humming in his ears, awakening him. He must've killed ten of those green things by now, and 'tired' wasn't yet in his vocabulary. Picking up a vampire and throwing it bodily into a wall, he cackled in a rather unsettling manner. A heatseeker, that's what he was. At the heart of the action, devoured by love, enveloped in the dance. Couldn't stand to be away from the fire very long. Forever flickering at its edges, letting it burn him, just a little. He would never be human, it was true. But for now, he was warm. _So_ warm.

"I'm coming !" he called out to her, wherever she was. She felt close. Just another couple of sword thrusts.

"_STOP_ !" and mostly everything did. Except Spike, of course, who felt rather cheated when the vampire facing him paused, and turned to face his leader, who was standing on the altar beside Buffy. So he just lopped his head off anyway, and ignored the lost points for form. "I said _STOP_ !" Lumhe bellowed again, and Spike gave him a toothy grin, terribly pleased with himself.

"Ain't one of your minions, Lumpy." 

"Regardless..." he let the knife waver dangerously close to Buffy's throat, "...let's talk first." There was a sudden angry sound from Spike, deep in the base of his throat, that made the hair on the back of Willow's neck stand on end.

"Back off." he said quietly. "Back the fuck off from her."

"You're not the one talking conditions, here."

"Back the fuck up," he said again, "or I'll rip you apart before I kill you." It wasn't that his voice was particularly loud, or particularly angry-sounding. But it carried an unmistakable ring of truth. Lumhe stared him down for a moment, but everyone in the room already knew which one of them meant it. The younger vampire sighed.

"I'd hoped we could be more reasonable. It's obvious you want this one." he lifted a few loose curls of Buffy's hair, while she made various obscene threats at him. "So let's call a truce." The dark-haired vampire's eyes, odd in a human face, flickered yellow, on and off. "All the spell demands is her blood. I'd let you turn her, if you wanted."

"Wha-" the offer was like a cold slap in the face, and Giles' eyes, focused on the slayer, turned to Spike instead. If he says agrees, I'll have to kill him, the older man realized painfully. He looked down at his already tiring arms. And I'm not sure I can. 

"Spike !" Xander hissed. Anya and Willow shot each other panicky glances, and the redhead tried to remember which spells worked on vampires and which didn't. Tara, silent before this, twined her fingers with Willow's.

_Trust him_, she said suddenly, between their minds.

"Think about it." Lumhe urged. "It's what you want, isn't it ?"

Images flashed through the blonde's head. It'd be so easy. Too easy, maybe. Isn't it what he wanted ? Hunting with her, holding her... his lover and childe, golden for all eternity. And when she drew him close, she'd take him in with those...

...dead, empty eyes.

"Fuck off, mate." He said, pleasantly. "Lady likes her heartbeat." he added, and lopped off the nearest vampire's head, which bore an expression of extreme surprise for about three seconds. Lumhe sputtered and cursed, and a rather half-hearted battle between the scoobies and vamps started up again. In a flash, Spike was on the dais beside their leader, tilting the blade back and forth, letting the light catch and slide along its edge. "Why don't you and I..." he said carefully, "...have a go ?" Lumhe looked him up and down, Spike's golden eyes reflecting his movements.

And then Lumhe decided to take him literally, and went. Straight off of the platform, down the steps, and across the room as fast as his legs could carry him. 

"Never want to play." Spike sighed, and brought down his sword on the chains holding her.

The "Khlouds" versus the scoobies had been holding their own. Maybe more than their own. Giles was nursing a battered shoulder, Xander a leg wound, and Willow and Tara seemed to be shaking under the pressure. So the battle might have ended badly, if Lumhe hadn't run.

But he did run, and the slayer was free, and there was no hope for any of Lumhe's men after that. She and Spike sliced a path wider than a yacht through the ranks of his shabby army, cracking jokes as they went.

"Here's one just your size, Slayer !" he called out, tossing a smallish, screaming vampire her way. She caught it deftly on the end of a stake.

"Not my color, though. Hope you kept the receipt !" I could do this all night, she thought, driving her palm against the wrinkled bridge of a vampire nose. But they can't. She watched her line of friends be pushed back another inch. There's got to be a way to end this, faster. I'm not sure if I can protect them and fight... and then it came to her. "Spike !" she called out sharply. "Come with me." They hacked and staked their way to the corner of the room. He turned to her in frustration. 

"We're boxed in, love ! You got an idea ?"

"Yeah. One, up." she said, pointing to the drapes, and staking the next-to-nearest vampire. "And then, take cover." He grinned at one side of his face.

"You're a wonder, you know that ?" he said, and pulled her to him. He felt her shock, up against him, as he kissed her full on the mouth. 

"Spike ! We're-" she started angrily, but instead of replying, he grabbed her feet and hoisted her up swiftly to the drapes. She climbed, hand over fist, to the rather rhythmic sound of Spike busying his fists against vampire skulls.

"It's got to be here somewhere..." Buffy muttered, pawing through the folds of drapery that were piled up on the ledge. At a dizzying height, she could see her friends fighting below. "Come on... alright !" she crowed, and dragged on the heavy cord attached to one end. It didn't budge. "Darn it. I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this..."

Giles, taking a breath, just happened to look up, and caught sight of Buffy plunging into midair.

"God, no !" he cried out, not understanding, but when she arced gracefully instead of hitting the floor, he had to laugh. It was like some sort of odd cartoon. She was swinging across the hall on the drapery pull.

And just like that, the room flooded with light.

There were a few screams, and a few 'poufs', mostly drowned out by the noises of K'bbeths drying up, rapidly and horrifyingly. It took everything in Willow to keep her lunch down. 

"Talk about reverse suction..." Xander said, ignoring the queasiness in his stomach. Buffy landed on her feet, catlike, and stalked over the increasing dust piles with disgust written on her face.

"Blech." she said. "Can we go now ?"

"Not just yet..." came an accent to her right. "I think we missed one." Spike, wrapped in a piece of the now-fallen drapes, shoved Lumhe out into a small patch of light. He screamed, and fell backwards into the shadows, clutching his face. "Best for last."

The slayer in her, for some odd reason, chose this moment to take control of her hips, and she found herself doing a grim sashay over to the cowering ex-master vampire. She took the sword from Spike, and drew the blade across the floor, leaving a thin groove on the stone and a horrendous screeching in everyone's ears. Lumhe looked at her, and looked at the line between them, and looked back at her again, confused.

"Cross it." she said. He stared at her. "Cross it." she said again, more forcefully. He remained still, and Spike kicked him.

"Do as she says." The kick propelled him a little, but Lumhe remained in the same place.

"I didn't think so." she spat. "How about I let you live this time, sort of, and you go tell all your little vamp buddies that I'm not taking any crap anymore." He nodded, and Spike dragged him upright by the collar. "And- get lost."

If the ratio of pride to brain cells in Lumhe's subconscious had been just a little less, he would have walked away; and perhaps he would've told the vamp community of the slayer's undiminished prowess, and perhaps he might've just run away to someplace quieter. As it was, the ratio had been going up exponentially since Spike had kicked him, and he felt, with all the remains of his wounded ego, that a parting blow was necessary. It was important that he impart to the slayer and her buddies just who they were messing with, after all. So Lumhe, fueled by pent-up rage and thwarted ambition, launched himself at the slayer, because Spike was still looking a little too deadly.

"You messed with the wro-" and, quite suddenly, he became vacuum-sized.

"I really hate having to kill the messenger." Buffy sighed, tucking the stake back into her waistband. "It's just such a cliché."


	12. Trwy'r Amser Anwylyd

"It's like a bag of chips."

"And how's that, exactly ?"

"Well..." she tossed a stake in her hand, catching it deftly and throwing it again, "... when you find out the chips have an expiration date, and that it's close... it just makes you want to rip open the bag that much more."

"I think I see..."

"So when the creepy-crawlies found out I _could_ die... it was, like, taking the kids to the Washington monument, you know ? Everybody got all excited..."

"Losin' me with the analogies, love."

"Yeah." he sat down, and she suddenly found herself unable to look at him. "You didn't. Lumpy asked you if you wanted to... and you didn't."

"Nope."

"Can I ask you why ?"

"You just did, didn't you ?" he sighed. "As much as everybody tries to tell you I want to 'Darth Vader' you, Buffy... I don't... love you... 'cause you've got darkness in you." He looked down at his nails, pretending that there was anything in the world that could've distracted him from thinking about her. "I love you... and there's a light, coming from you... from inside. And even you being dead... couldn't put it out. It wouldn't have been you, anyway." he added. His voice began to trail off. "Wouldn't have been... the same..."

She processed this for a minute, feeling guilty, and at the same time, feeling the return of the (insane !) shivers. The Spike shivers. And then a recent memory triggered her 'righteous indignation' reflex.

"You, and I- have to talk."

"About what, pet ?"

"You know very well... don't look at me like that. We were in the middle of a _fight, _for heaven's sake ! And Giles and everyone were standing _right there _! Were you not thinking ? What _were_ you thinking ?!"

He sat back on the tombstone, not bothering to interrupt her tirade. She seemed to be losing steam, so he hazarded a small question.

"Did you like it ?" Buffy had been pacing; she stopped abruptly and gaped at him, and then managed to put some semblance of an angry/surprised face back on. 

"What do you mean, did I like it ? I was fighting ! We were, we were in the middle of something important, and you can't just-"

"But did you like it ?"

"Yes."

He nearly fell off the stone.

"B-Buffy..."

"But I can't."

"What do you mean, 'you can't' ? I haven't asked you anything yet."

"I know what you're going to ask. You're going to ask if i can't... give 'us' a chance... and, I want to... I never thought I'd... but you're here. Do you know what that means ? That you... stay ? You stay. And you're here, and not gone, and that's half the battle in Buffy-land... Do you know what that means ?" she said again, helpless now. "And, sure, I wish things were different, but they aren't, and... I've been dead, Spike. Dead. And I'm dealing, sure, but how about tomorrow, and-"

"I'll be here."

"I know, you ass, and that's what makes it so hard." she slumped down onto the stone next to his. "It's easy to say that everybody who loves me runs away, and that nothing ever lasts in my world. But you do. You're not following the rules. They say 'love', and then they say 'goodbye'. You say 'love', and... and you stay. And you fight, and you babysit my little sister, and you make it really difficult."

"Make what difficult ?"

"Not loving you." she said, in the softest voice imaginable.

This left a gaping hole in his train of thought, and he sat gaping like a fish until a voice in his head yelled out, 'kiss her, you ponce !', so he did. She didn't pull away; in fact, she grabbed his elbows and pulled him in, fiercely, and scorched him with her heat. For a girl who thought she couldn't, she did very well. The nagging need to breathe parted their lips, and they sat with their arms around each other for a moment longer. She melted against him, feeling cool lips on her forehead, breathing into the soft hollow between his neck and shoulders. They kissed, slower this time, letting each other take the lead. I've wanted this for so long, she mused. Wanted these arms, wanted this touch... was that something moving in the bushes ? She broke away, ready for trouble, and he rubbed his forehead awkwardly. Silence. She gave him a sheepish grin.

"I can't. I'm just... preoccupied. I think this... should wait."

"This ?"

"You know..." she gestured between them. "Us. What's been happening... when things calm down-" she began, but he cut her short.

"Buffy." he said firmly, and cupped her elbows with his palms. "Love, it's not going to clear. This is what happens. This is life... or whatever. This is life, for us, anyway." She shook him off.

"Don't be- I can't put things in the way of what I have to do. I want this," she gestured again, "I want this so much. I... I love you." This startled him, and it took every ounce of composure he had in him not to break into a dance. Someday, somehow, he would tell her, in words, or with other means, what it meant to hear that from her. But right now, he just wanted to hear more. "I just want to be with you. I'd love to just let you kiss me, to forget... to forget everything. But I can't. I have things to take care of, and maybe then-"

"Maybe then w_hat ?! _Buffy, you're the slayer ! I didn't want to say this, but 'then' for people like us comes in limited supplies. Love doesn't get you out of things. The world doesn't stop for love." his eye pleaded with her. "Buffy, I... I love you. But love doesn't get you out. It gets you through things." He lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "If you keep waiting for the 'right time', it's never gonna come. Heaven knows we've both loved enough at the wrong time. The right time, in the real world, is whenever you can grab it." He pressed his lips to her forehead again, willing the tears not to come. "And I'm not letting you go."

It makes some kind of sense, she thought, her face resting on his shoulder. He was rubbing her back now, in that spot. I've always tried to separate my life. Love on one side- duty on the other. And somehow, whenever they touched, they were ruined. I forget just when, but at some point... Spike started walking dangerously close to the edges of them both. I can have both, she realized. Love and duty. They don't have to be enemies. She lifted her head and smiled up at him. 

They don't have to be enemies.

"So... what do we do now ?"

"This is the part," she smiled slowly, "where we get to start all over again."

"All over again ?"

"All over." He watched her for a minute, then extended a hand.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance ?" he winked, and indicated the full moon. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine."

"Oh, I hope not." he countered, and she had the grace to look slightly startled. "Shall we dance ?" he added, trying to be patient. She was standing there against the moon with her hair framing her face, and he felt like he'd die if he couldn't touch her soon. True, a bit late, but the comparison stood. She seemed to sense it, and drew out the wait ever so slightly. 

"Well... do you really think it's proper ?" she murmured. "Us just meeting, and all." He shot her a dangerous grin, and she felt that cool shiver again. There was love, and hope, and animal energy wrapped up in those icy eyes tonight. Buffy had the feeling her eyes were a mirror of his own. It was the best feeling she'd had in a while. "Well ?"

"Do I think... it's proper ?" he said archly.

"Just asking."

"Sod proper." he shrugged, and swung her into his arms.

Somewhere, on a quiet street, there was a house with no lights on.

Tangled in each other, her hand met his, and the fingers wound together in the first, most ancient knot.

_Forever _? she asked him.

_Forever. _he said. 

She watched him sleeping, watched the moon filter through the blinds and outline him in silver. Asleep, he wasn't the same. There wasn't that angry energy that followed him wherever he went. He was wrapped up in movement, as if he were made of water, forever in motion, rippling, crashing like the tide. The endless, endless tide. He's not so old as that, she told herself sheepishly, but a strange fear clutched at her heart for a moment. He is more like the tide than I am. When I'm dead, he will still be lapping the shore. He will still be here, when I'm old, and when I'm dead. 

If he sensed her worry, it didn't wake him. Instead, he shifted in his sleep, and rolled to face her. One arm snaked around her waist, and she let herself be drawn into his arms. Spike sighed, and his chin found a place to rest on the top of her head, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. It was simple enough, that he should reach out and she should go to him. But it was the kind of gesture that satisfied that tiny voice in the back of her mind. It would always be like this. In trouble, or in pain, and in great joy, Buffy would find herself here again. Watching the moonlight trace him in white, with his arms around her, forever. Forever. 

He will be here when I am dead, she thought; but then, I will be here too.

"Of age there is no question

Death's shadow is undone

We only need each other

And shelter from the sun."

-After Dark (Blue Oyster Cult)


End file.
